


One More Drink Before the War

by Lost_Girl_02



Series: One More... [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-adjacent, Could Be Canon, F/M, Light Angst, Mix of Show and Book Canon, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Pre-Battle for Winterfell, Romance, but it's pre-battle so what do you expect?, but likely won't be anytime soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Girl_02/pseuds/Lost_Girl_02
Summary: The songs of Sansa Stark’s childhood proved to be the ground on which her whole world needed to shift around. Hours before the Battle for Winterfell, songs are on the minds of many as the dead march closer.  Jenny of Oldstones echoes through the Great Hall and Sansa is reminded of the tale of Florian and Jonquil and if her song will have a happy ending.During/post 8x02 leading up to 8x03.





	1. Florian and Jonquil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so if you've read my previous fic "One More Perfect Moment" you'll know how loudly I screamed when Pod started singing "Jenny of Oldstones" in 8x02! I was literally just looking for love songs for Sansa to mention, and put that one in there and then the show just had to give us the perfect lyrics.
> 
> I initially was going to wait until after the Battle for Winterfell to write another one of these, but after the song, I knew I needed to write this interlude.
> 
> There will probably be another longer A/N at the bottom of this ch.
> 
> Also the title is stolen from Bronn's line in the Blackwater episode/the accompanying score and was literally the only thing I could think about when *that* fireplace scene started.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own GoT. Clearly.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sansa led Theon down into Winterfell's northern courtyard, her heart beaming as she looked at the man who has been both her tormentor and her savior. A turncloak and a brother.

She never quite expected to see the Greyjoy heir again after he sailed for Pyke to find his sister, and even less so when she heard that Yara had declared for Daenerys. Although she had been satisfied with how they parted, she could hardly describe the joy she felt when he returned to fight for the North, for  _her,_ and that he hadn't turned his back on the Starks.

She had prayed for him to find his way home again, and he had.

Tucking her hand into his arm, they walked into the courtyard amidst a generally ambivalent reception. Which, if truth be told, was perfectly alright with Sansa - she didn't want to be the Lady of Winterfell just yet, rallying her people to arms - she just wanted to sit with a man who had become her adopted brother and share one last hot meal before the fighting began.

Theon was silent by her side, shuffling along, his eyes downcast as he looked around at all of the people inside Winterfell's walls. She was certain he was remembering the time when he was an arrogant young man, full of pride and anger and confusion, and had inadvertently destroyed her home in the process of trying to define his identity.

"It didn't last," she murmured, taking the offered bowl of stew from a refugee woman with a courteous smile. "The North remembers. It remembers the horrors of war and the burnings and the murders, but it also remembers a time before all of that. A time of summer and laughter and happiness. No matter what happens to the North, we remember who we are, and we rebuild. We'll remember this next tragedy and the one after it, but we'll always endure to face the next horror that tries to break the North. After all," Sansa smirked, remembering the many times her father had said the infamous Stark words, "winter is coming. Winter is always coming."

Sitting down at a small table tucked into the corner of the courtyard, Theon glanced at his own bowl of stew, a tortured look on his face. "I'm so -" he started, but Sansa shook her head sharply.

"Don't apologize for what is done. You've promised to fight with us, to protect Bran - that's all that matters now," she declared simply, and it was true. There wasn't much time left for old feuds and grudges - Jaime Lannister had proved that when he walked into the Great Hall, alone and one-handed, but willing to fight for the survival of humanity alongside the daughter of the king he was famous for slaying. All that mattered now was surviving the night so that they could all see their loved ones again.

A dark-haired squire appeared in the forefront of her mind at the thought, Pod somehow finding his place in her thoughts alongside her family and those like Jeyne Poole and Theon that were just as much her blood as any Stark.

"What are you thinking about?" Theon asked, pulling her gaze towards him.

She grinned faintly, remembering all of the times she sat with Jeyne in this very yard, watching her brothers practice and train. "What it was like before," she admitted sheepishly, a soft smile almost appearing. "Before King Robert came north and before I went south. When I just had to worry about which Northern lord Father might wed me to, and if Arya had some wicked joke planned. When I could sit here with Jeyne and poke myself with those wretched sewing needles until my fingers bled, but I could embroider a direwolf on anything."

"Jeyne?" He asked, his head tilting to the side as if trying to remember. Her heart broke a little that she might be the only one to remember the spirited steward's daughter, but he seemed to be sorting through the jumbled memories that now made up his mind, trying to remember the girl's face. The anguish was clear in his dark eyes as he admitted, "I can't remember...did I...?"

"You didn't kill her, Theon," she shook her head once more, realizing the awful question that was at the tip of his tongue. "She rode south with us to King's Landing...I was the one who lost track of her in the chaos when my father was imprisoned. I don't even know if she would recognize me now, or I her."

"She has brown eyes," he murmured shyly, a blush rising in his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly. "Big brown eyes like a doe."

"You remember her?" Her eyes widening slightly, shocked that the man could recall the memory of a girl's eye color - a girl he might have said a maximum of ten words to in his entire life.

He nodded slowly, his dark eyes becoming unfocused, but it wasn't the kind of glassy stare that he had when he was remembering Ramsay or the torture. It was almost...wistful. "I danced with her once at a feast. Your father wanted me to, because no one was asking her to dance. Afterwards, I heard some of the other lordlings saying that they didn't ask her because she was just  _pretty,_ not beautiful like -"

"Like me," Sansa finished bitterly, remembering the praise she received from Cersei, and even her own mother, simply because she had been born beautiful. "Everyone always said I was beautiful, while she was only pretty."

Theon nodded, his eyes turning cold and she saw her own anger at the world for praising beauty in girls above all else. She even remembered Cersei telling her to use her appearance to her advantage, and that the only weapons women like them had were their tears and their sex.

But she had seen that there was so much more to a woman, so much more to  _her,_ than her looks - Brienne had proven that when she, apparently, won the heart of the golden Lannister knight, without the help of conventional beauty. She had also seen the power that love and loyalty had over the world, particularly over men like her brothers.

Robb had marched south out of love for their father and a loyalty to the Northmen who demanded Joffrey's head, and he died because of the love and loyalty he held for his lady wife.

Now, Jon was crowned out of the Northmen's loyalty to him and his fight against the dead, but he gave the North away because of his love for the Dragon Queen.

Cersei would say that they were weak-willed men, easily manipulated because of their own hearts' betrayals, but Sansa saw two flawed men that were made strong by their faults.

It was the love for her sister that put an end to nearly a decade of animosity between the two. And it was the love for her brothers that taught her how to be strong and noble and fierce and wise, but also how to keep that love and still survive the realities of her world.

It was the promise of a sunrise and the love of a squire that had made her believe in the very concept once again.

"If it was her," Sansa asked, her voice going cold and her heart stuttering in her chest, "if it had been Jeyne that had been married to Ramsay, would you have saved her too? If she was the one being beaten and hurt and  _raped_ every night in a place she called home...if you had nothing to gain from the act, no favor to be won from Jon and no reason to be indebted to her, would you have saved her?'

Theon practically shook at the memory of Ramsay, but this time, his eyes remained focused on her determined expression. "Yes."

" _Why?_ " She demanded, desperate to know the answer, clinging to the hope that there was some part of her chosen-brother that would be whole enough to remember, to  _find,_ Jeyne when this was all over.  _You, who would think yourself the foolish Florian, unworthy of her maidenly Jonquil, even though neither of you are so easily defined...why would you save her?_

"Because she would have reminded me of home."

Sansa nodded, a breath of relief leaving her lungs, and turned back to her stew, scraping the bottom of her bowl with a wooden spoon, satisfied with his answer, but only just. She had refused to ask Pod to promise to come back to her after the battle - not wanting him to feel as if he failed her if he...didn't make it back - but she needed to ask one desperate promise of Theon.

Although he was unlikely to return - a fact they both knew - from defending Bran against the Night King, she needed to make him promise one thing. "When we survive," she started, refusing to say "if" and force them both to dwell on the all-too likely outcome, "swear that you'll find Jeyne. I lost her somewhere in Maegor's Holdfast, but I doubt she's made it out of King's Landing. Swear that you'll take a ship, a small one with a small crew, and sail to King's Landing and remind her of her home."

"Sansa, I don't..." he started, the dejection and resignation clear in his tone. He was ready to sacrifice himself, to not walk away from this night, but she knew that by making him promise this to her, maybe it would be enough to give him a small spark of determination to keep fighting, that there was someone else that needed him alive.

"Jeyne and I," she interrupted, her mind traveling back to summertime when the two girls were young and innocent, and the man in front of her was whole, "we would play in the godswood, pretending it was the forest were Jonquil was found in a pool, a pool just like the one that is frozen over now. We would take turns being Florian, always trying to outdo one another with how foolish we could act. But maybe Florian wasn't a fool like we think of them now, maybe he was called a fool because he was a knight who avoided the fight."

Even as she spoke, she thought of brave Podrick, and if those who might one day remember their story would cast him as a heroic fool or a foolish hero.  _But the truth is not so simple,_ she thought with pride.  _Podrick might be a stumbletongue at times, but he is still kind and intelligent, and he is a true knight without being a famous warrior. And Theon might have made foolish decisions in the past, but he has atoned for them greatly and has done good to start to weigh out the bad, he is neither a villain nor a hero._

"How do you want them to remember you?" Sansa asked, reaching out a hand to lightly cover his, trying to lend him some of her strength and holding on to what humanity they had left.  _Soon I will be doing the same for a whole kingdom._ "As a turncloak, or as a man that saved innocents?"

"As Theon," he replied simply. "I will save Jeyne if I can, but I might be too much of a fool even for your songs."

Sansa smiled dimly, proud of the choice he made and terrified that he would regret doing so. "You're not a fool Theon, and it is well past the time where we learned to stop putting so much stock in songs." Even as she stood, feeling the weight of Lady fall into place once again, she wanted to instill a little bit of hope in herself and him. "And I think it's time we write our own endings...if the world doesn't end first. The battle is almost here, Theon," she turned back, looking at him with affection. "And I appreciate that you volunteered to defend our brother, but you're my brother too. Remember that...and remember your promise."

"I will, my lady," he vowed solemnly, the brightness of tears lighting up his dark eyes and she couldn't help but throw her arms around him, hopefully not for the last time.

"Be safe," she murmured into his ear, her cheek pressed against his soft, light brown hair. "Make sure your arrows are lit."

"You too," came the gruff reply as the two separated, Theon limping off towards the direction of the godswood.

_Ramsay could not destroy either of us,_ Sansa thought, lifting her head high and letting pride fill her.  _And now, we fight so that Winterfell does not have to be home to monsters ever again._

She made her way up to the small deck that overlooked the yard, stopping every so often to talk to a soldier or direct a refugee towards the crypt. In these last few moments, she felt the need to look all of her people in the eyes and commit their faces to memory. Samwell Tarly and Bran had said that her brother was the true living memory of the Seven Kingdoms and without him there was no life.

The memories of what she had experienced had shaped her from the frightened girl kneeling at the steps of the Iron Throne, declaring her love for a mad boy-king, and into a woman that relied on herself, her own judgement, and those around her that had earned her trust by blood. She was also the woman that would remember her people's faces, because even if she never remembered all of their names, she would know the face of every soul that had died for her home and for Westeros.

_They will never sing songs about the soldiers on the ground. It's too much despair and death for them,_ Sansa realized, crouching down to help a little boy, no older than Rickon had been when she left, who was looking around the yard with a lost expression. "Are you a soldier?"

The little boy nodded, trying to mold his face into an expression of courage and strength, but the chubby cheeks and the small wooden sword he was carrying somewhat ruined the effect.

"Well, I think those in the crypts are going to need brave soldiers like you to defend them," she urged gently. "Make sure you get below quickly, though, I'm counting on you to keep them safe."

She smiled brightly as the child grinned up at her with the widest and broadest of grins, before scampering off towards the crypts, and she hoped that he and all of those that were already below would be safe.

_They will never sing songs of the boys that cried as they died, nor of the women who were violated in the aftermath. We only hear about Florian the Fool and poor Jonquil who fell in love._ She looked around the battlements, her ears ringing as the horn sounded. The fear of what was coming had abated, and she felt only the determination to do what was necessary to survive and for her people and her loved ones to survive the night. She was not a great fighter like Arya or Brienne, but she was a strategist and she had done all she could to give the living their best chance.

She spied an odd group emerging from the keep - Ser Davos and Lord Tyrion heading for the battlements, while Tormund raced through the courtyard like a demon from the Seventh Hell, a gleeful smile on his face.

_One day, they might sing about a lady warrior,_ she mused as she spied Brienne's blue armor and bright hair, a flash of graying gold not far behind,  _and of the broken knight who loved her. They'll sing about daring rescues and sword fights and the beauty that loved the beast. Or perhaps it was the beast that loved the beauty, the lines between the two were blurred already so there was no telling how the story might get twisted as time goes on._

_Maybe they'll sing about a kraken knight and a lost steward's daughter who reminded each other of home. Or of a Lady in a tower, whose only light was the gentle squire who had earned her love after so many others had failed._

Dark brown eyes seemed to trap her in their gaze as Podrick stared up at her from the yard, a determined look on his face.

_Will they sing of the hurt that followed us the moment we stepped foot in that awful, red castle? Or will all of our stories just become the next in a long line of songs about doomed lovers?_

_I don't want us to be doomed._ The thought seemed like a whisper in the din of her mind, but Sansa knew that she needed to hold on to that wish with a vice in the hours to come. She would not surrender, because she wanted to live and love and to have a life after this war was over.

She heard someone climbing the stairs to the landing, and on the slightly stumbling footsteps alone, she knew it could only be Pod. Turning to face him, her heart practically stuttered in her chest as she caught sight of him, even as that clumsy habit of his made its appearance again.

"My l..." She smiled anyway, suddenly glad that she had not seen the last of him up on the ramparts. That the gods might have heard her prayers and given her  _one more moment_ as a girl with the chance to love a boy.

"Pod," she breathed, her lips curling into the ghost of a smile, unsure if anyone was watching their interaction, although if that was the case, there might be larger concerns at the moment.

When the end of the world arrived, no one would be thinking about a lady in love with a squire no more than they would any other couple in love. They could have their own world for a moment, where it was just the two of them and tradition be damned - Sansa knew right then and there that she was not going to let herself be forced into another political marriage. While she was the Stark in Winterfell, she would choose, for once in her life, who she was going to love, and she chose a dark-haired squire from the South.

She searched his ever-expressive eyes and saw her own love mirrored there. She saw the determination to be with her, and the fire within that meant he would not abandon her like so many had before. Reaching out a hand, Sansa grasped his right hand in her own, needing to impart some of her affection and her support, and to draw some of his resolve into her. The resolve to live and remember.

His arm wrapped around her small waist daringly, just beneath the armor that reinforced her corset - so reminiscent of Cersei's as they waited in Maegor's Holdfast for the Battle of Blackwater Bay to end - pulling her flush against him, the studs of his armor poking her gently in the shoulders and stomach. She had little time to react before her lips were a hair's breadth away from his, but he stopped just short of joining them.

Even though their foreheads were touching, the lightest of touches, she looked up at him as best she could with crossed eyes. Sansa knew he was giving her the chance to say no, but as she cast her eyes out and about the courtyard, she saw lovers everywhere saying their final goodbyes. Her sister and her smith were standing awfully close together, their hands at each other's waist, drawing them closer together. Ser Jaime and Brienne were talking together, their hands flexing around the pommels of their swords as if that was a proper substitute for holding one another.

She had made her peace with the North and the gods hours before, but talking to Theon about Jeyne made her realize that if she was going to survive this fight, they needed to think of the after. To have something that kept them going, that kept the battle alive when all hope seems lost.

Her decision made, she reached her free hand up to his cheek, once more cursing the gloves that kept their skin from touching and glanced at his lips in expectation. As he bent down to kiss her headily, her clear blue eyes shut, her head practically spinning as he kissed her with even more devotion and hope, and that unspoken promise to return to her.

Sansa knew that she could have stayed there for ages, in the arms of the boy she loves, stealing one more kiss before the fight. The taste of sweetwine lingered on her lips even when he pulled back, and she was certain that she would get drunk on the taste of every one of his kisses.

When he kissed her, she realized that Florian and Jonquil were a fantasy for little girls to hold on to, but she selfishly hoped that one day, the bards would sing about Podrick and Sansa in the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I can take a 5 second shot of Theon and Sansa sitting together and write a whole 3k chapter on it.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read this, if you haven't already, I suggest reading the first installment of this series, it might clarify some things and there are some callbacks.
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments and reviews I appreciate them all!!
> 
> The next chapter should (fingers crossed) be up sometime tomorrow, so keep an eye out.
> 
> Skip this next long section if you don't want to read my ramblings written at 11 PM.
> 
> So, some notes on Sansa in this chapter:
> 
> -I really wanted her to come off as a woman with leadership thrust upon her but who has risen to the challenge and taken all of Cersei's lessons but subtracting the Cersei-craziness. This was probs only clear a couple times in this ch, but that's kind of how I see Sansa as a leader/Lady of Winterfell. She is trying to do right by her people and fulling embracing her Stark-ness after denying it for so long.
> 
> -Stemming from this, I wanted to touch upon the arranged marriage issue. B/c now that she's in power, she can take that power back over her love life. I also wanted to make it so that she was actively choosing Pod and letting herself be vulnerable with him. Healthy relationships are cool y'all!
> 
> -I know she might have seemed a bit harsh with Theon, but that's the kind of tough love stance she's taken with him before. Also, I think (and this may be some of my book thoughts talking) that he's pretty much willing and wanting to die, and she's trying to make him realize that dying would have an impact on her and others. And I just love the whole found family aspect of their relationship.
> 
> -It also touches upon the "after" that Sansa has been a big advocate for, and planning for after the White Walker attack so I took her angle to be that fighting FOR something is much more effective that just fighting AGAINST an evil.
> 
> Can you tell that I love Theon and Jeyne's (super dark I know) story from ADWD?? Basically Sansa's whole part asking him if he would have saved her is exactly that plot in the book. Read it. It's super messed up and Ramsay is somehow WORSE than in the show. The "as Theon" part is also meant to callback the different chapter titles of Theon's sections in ADWD.
> 
> -The "brown eyes" comment references that story too since Jeyne was disguised as Arya but Theon knew that it was her right away b/c her eyes were brown, not gray. And the "pretty not beautiful" was something Jeyne told Theon, so I wanted to flip it to see Sansa's reaction to always being held up as beautiful when her story has moved so far past who she's married to.
> 
> Also love the idea that everyone can tell Jaime and Brienne are in love with each other except they're completely clueless about their own and each other's feelings. And the "beauty and the beast" parallel is taken from an interview w/Martin about the BriennexJaime dynamic flipping that tale on its head and how they both have beautiful/beastly aspects.
> 
> Lastly, a note on the song, "Florian and Jonquil."
> 
> -There's not much out there lyric-wise, but from what I could tell, Florian was a knight that everyone saw as a fool and he saw Jonquil bathing and they fell in love. Classic medieval love story.
> 
> -But how the truth is more complex, and I wanted to show how Sansa has is reclaiming the songs, and in doing so she is taking control of her own story.
> 
> -Also, I picked this song for Sansa's chapter b/c it was referenced in her chapters in ASOS when Dontos was "helping" her escape KL after the Purple Wedding.
> 
> Once again, if you've made it to the end of this author's note I applaud you, I'm sure I;m forgetting something but I'll just add it to the end of the next ch. which, once again, be up tomorrow!


	2. Jenny of Oldstones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as promised, this is the second chapter of this two-shot! As I mentioned in the 1st ch. when Pod started singing "Jenny of Oldstones" in 8x02 I knew I had to write this fic, and so it made sense to write this ch. in his POV and I actually wrote this one first.
> 
> Also, timeline note: assume that when Pod leaves in "One More Perfect Moment" he finds Brienne (who hadn't been in her room) and then go to the Great Hall for *that* fireplace scene.
> 
> Once again, I'll have a longer A/N at the end, talking about the fic.
> 
> Also, everyone should listen to Florence and the Machine's version of "Jenny of Oldstones" b/c it is GORGEOUS!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own GoT. Clearly.
> 
> Enjoy!

Although he would never admit to La- _Ser_ Brienne, the glass of wine might have gone to his head. That had to be the only explanation why he was about to sing "Jenny of Oldstones" in front of no less than three knights, his previous lord, and a boastful wildling.

Podrick was familiar with Lord Tyrion's pre-battle traditions, as before the Battle of Blackwater Bay, the lord had similar existential debates coupled with the overwhelming desire to live.

That night was also the first time he remembered falling in love with Sansa Stark.

Back then, she was still the pale, delicate-looking girl surrounded in a den of liars, a lone wolf cornered by lions, and he was the oldest and most useless squire of them all. In the Throne Room, he stood next to her as Tyrion spoke to her handmaiden, unable to say two words to her without stumbling over his own tongue. With her bright red hair lit like a flame in the torches in the hall, he could have sworn she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And when she spoke, to wish him good fortune and good luck on the battlefield in that flat tone she used at court, he wouldn't have been able to remember his own name if he was asked.

He had been in awe of her strength and grace to be able to force the lies out of her lips, because she surely would have much preferred every Lannister man dead and piled to the tops of the city walls.

Which was what made it a bit more surprising when she changed her opinion of Ser Jaime so readily. He knew she trusted Brienne almost more than anyone else, but he had heard the men tell stories about how the Lady of Winterfell outmaneuvered, manipulated, and sentenced Littlefinger without a second's hesitation. Pod had once thought that the slimy man was one of her closest advisors, having been by her side since her time in King's Landing - but that didn't mean Pod had ever trusted the man, himself. And when Jaime Lannister was escorted into the hall, surrounded by Stark men, he couldn't help but feel conflicted about the damning trial that was sure to occur.

One part of him was proud of his Lady, that she had managed to reverse her fortunes, and now there was a lion in her home, surrounded by her own pack of wolves. But another part of him was worried about the man's fate.

Ser Jaime was not the worst of the Lannisters, Pod knew that firsthand. He had saved the squire from Cersei's grasp once before, when he refused to falsely testify against Lord Tyrion, but he had also been concerned about how Lady Brienne would hold up if the knight was sentenced to death. He was a slow learner, it was true, and not the most observant, but even at Riverrun it was clear that there was  _something_ between the two, even Bronn could see it - in his own crude way.

Pod had watched with a kernel of pride as the knightly woman stood up, striding into the center of the room, placing herself protectively in front of Ser Jaime, to defend his honor and putting her own life on the line and into the other man's hands. It was that same kernel that made him urge Lady Brienne to take one moment of selfishness, and let Jaime return that trust and - if he were to be so bold - love.

He knew that the lady thought Jaime was japing with her, and was bracing for some mockery to be revealed, but Pod had seen how the Lannister looked at her with awe and true affection and knew that he was being nothing but sincere in his intentions.

When the lady knelt on the stone floor of the Winterfell Hall, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Every man present was incredibly aware that they were watching not just the knighting of a true warrior that deserved the title more than many, but also the relief of two people finally being on the same side after years of being honor-bound to serve opposing forces. But also, to Pod, he felt like he was intruding on an incredibly intimate moment between two lovers.

Tormund's clap broke that spell, and when Ser Jaime had torn his eyes away from Brienne's, it was like he was remembering that there were others in the room. And when his lady beamed brighter than he had ever seen, Pod knew that the tears in her eyes were tears of joy.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Tyrion had asked for a song not soon after, perhaps wishing to give his brother and Brienne a bit of a reprieve, but he was more surprised that the man stayed after the wine ran out.

Pod's mother had always used to say that he had a lovely voice, but a squire had no use for a singing voice other than to woo women, and Pod had never been the sort to be so confident as to sing to a woman. But, since he was never a great wooer of women, he learned some songs in case the time ever came that he felt he needed them.

He waited for Tormund to break the silence with some wildling dirge, sending the room into gales of laughter, brightening the mood ever so slightly before the battle.

However, then he remembered fiery hair dotted with snow, and he found himself opening his mouth, the first few notes of the mournful song falling from his lips.

Standing on the ramparts, watching the snow fall on an icy North...that was the second time he fell in love with Sansa Stark.

The red-haired Lady seemed to fit the role of Jenny of Oldstones well, he couldn't help but keep her in his mind's eye as he sang. She was hidden away in a castle full of the ghosts of her family, but unlike poor Jenny, she had survived it all with grace and dignity.

The room was quiet except for his soft voice, and he couldn't bear to look any of his drinking companions in the eyes, instead staring at his drink, the skin of his right wrist tingling where the cord was wound tightly around it underneath his gauntlet. He would wear Sansa's favor into the long night to come, and he would be glad to die knowing that he was taking some small piece of her affections with him.

He had been in love with the redheaded Stark for almost as long as he had known her, but initially, it was just the admiration for a young woman who had managed to survive all that she had - Joffrey and Ramsay would have broken the spirit of a lesser woman, but not Sansa. However, when Pod had stood on the ramparts with Sansa, watching the sun set on her homeland, he realized that his love went beyond the devotion of a squire to his lady.

He wanted to protect her, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to save her home. He wanted to save  _her._

She told Pod how she no longer believed in knights in shining armor coming to rescue her, but maybe one day, he could be the knight that was worthy of her love.

Pod looked up, the final solemn notes ringing through the air, he hoped he wouldn't be one more ghost she wished to dance with.

The hall was still for a moment, holding its breath, before the horns sounded and everything else faded behind the dull wall of fear. He was only four-and-twenty, and although younger men died in war all the time, he felt that he was much too young to die.

He wished to explore the North with Sansa, he wished to stand with her when dawn came, simply holding her in his arms if she would let him. He wished to become a knight, a borderline selfish wish since Brienne seemed willing to turn Ser Jaime down under the pretext of setting a noble example. He wished to marry a girl - in the far recesses of his mind, where the thoughts he didn't dare give hope to lived, he wished that girl to be Sansa - and he wanted to have little knightlings and tiny ladies of his own to run through the halls of a warm home.

He wished to grow up and grow old before he died. And he wanted to see Sansa one last time before he faced the Army of the Dead. He wanted her face burning bright in his mind as he faced down the undead.

Pod stood quickly, suddenly filled with adrenaline and purpose, and went to follow Ser Davos as he led the way out of the hall, Lord Tyrion and Tormund not far behind. But he stalled when he saw that his newly-knighted lady had not moved in her chair, except to look at Ser Jaime.

"My lady?" The squire asked, wondering if he should leave the two alone for a brief moment more. The urge to see Sansa was great, but he couldn't shirk his duties as a squire, which at the moment, meant staying in the Hall a few heartbeats further.

"Brienne," Jaime breathed, almost as if he was trying to pack years of affection, respect, admiration, and desperation into that one word.

"Ser Jaime," the blonde woman replied, a blush coating her cheeks, and Pod desperately wished that he was a little worse at his job, so he could leave the two to have their own tender, intimate moment more before the battle. But, he needed to remind his lady that they were about to be in the fight of their lives and she was needed to command her troops.

"I tried to find you earlier," the older knight continued in a rush. Pod knew that he hadn't found Brienne in her chambers earlier, as the squire had found her in the courtyard, staring at her sword, when he descended from the ramparts mere hours ago. "There's something I wanted to say, to tell you, but..." He trailed off as he looked down at his golden hand, "I don't think now is the time."

Brienne's chin wobbled, but she nodded firmly, her eyes soft and her hand tightening around the sword at her hip. "You can tell me after the battle is won," she promised firmly, and Pod had to look away once more as Ser Jaime gave her a look that the young squire did not want to define.

He nodded at the Lannister knight, trying to convey his apologies about ruining their moment, and his hope that they would all survive the coming fight, before following Lady Brienne out into the courtyard.

The pre-battle spell was clearly broken, as the yard was filled with men rushing to get in formation, grabbing whatever dragonglass weapon they could reach and strapping on their armor haphazardly. He even glimpsed Arya Stark adjusting her tunic as she emerged from the forges, the dark-haired smith right behind her.  _That must be "her" smith,_ Pod thought, remembering how Sansa had suggested he check the forges for her sister, clearly correct in her thinking that everyone would be taking these last few hours to say goodbye to the ones they love.

Almost as if the universe could read his mind, when he looked up, he caught a glimpse of red hair in the deck above the courtyard. Turning towards the deck, he saw Sansa standing there, scanning the yard methodically, almost as if she was looking for someone.

 _Probably her sister,_ he smiled softly, not vain enough to think that he could be the one she would look for.

He remembered her once more on that night before the Battle of Blackwater, and how much they had both changed in their time outside King's Landing.

She was no longer that cowering girl who was forced to kiss Joffrey's sword, but a Lady - nearly a queen to some - who surveyed her troops with a strategic eye and would remain the Stark in Winterfell throughout the night.

And Pod was no longer scared of everything that moved, women especially, and stumbling over his every word, but rather he had learned to fight from the first female knight in Westeros and had found the courage within him that night on the Blackwater, driven by a loyalty to the family he had chosen.

He felt a nudge on his shoulder, and saw Brienne looking at him with a proud look in her eye. She nodded slightly, her eyes flicking up to where the Lady of Winterfell was still overseeing the troops, the weight of the entire castle settling upon her shoulders.

Pod blushed, guilt swirling in his stomach as she gave him permission to go to Sansa, to be selfish, even after he had prevented her from having a similar moment with Ser Jaime. But he nodded gratefully, knowing that was simply her nature, echoes of "one more moment" ringing in his ears as he climbed the steps.

He remembered a line from "Jenny of Oldstones" -  _they danced through the day and into the night, through the snow that swept through the halls, from winter to summer then winter again._ It was a sad song, true, but Pod had always found it romantic, in a slightly morbid way, that two people could love each other even when one was long gone.

It gave him hope that maybe there might be someone out there who could love him just for a short while.

Podrick wasn't hoping for the kind of love that was found in songs, but he was certain that love was the kind that Sansa deserved. If she would have him, he would do anything in his power to be worthy of her affections and of her trust, and he would carry that leather cord around his wrist until the day he died - a day which might come sooner than expected.

As he reached the landing, he sucked in a sharp breath as he let himself indulge in one brief moment of committing her image to memory. If he died on the battlefield outside her home tonight, he would remember her this way: strong and proud, dignified and elegant, her long red hair cascading over her shoulders and her black dress studded with armor.

He would remember her as a commander and a leader, a true Lady. And he would remember her as a girl standing on the battlements, asking him to kiss her because that was easier than asking him to come back alive.

"My l..." the formal moniker almost slipped off his tongue, but as she turned to face him, all of the words seemed to leave his mind.

"Pod," she smiled, some of the weight seemingly lifting from her shoulders, and her clear, Tully eyes looked into his. Affection tilted her lips upwards, and he was in awe once again, that she appeared to have some sort of feelings for him.

If Lord Tyrion had asked him, before Blackwater, if he thought he would one day stand in Winterfell, in love with Sansa Stark, he would have said that his lord was only half-right. Pod knew he was in love with Sansa all those years ago, and nothing could banish those feelings, but it was a simple thing - she was the prettiest, gentlest girl he had ever come into contact with.

However, as he looked at her, at home among the ice and snow of the North, the mantle of "Lady" resting surely on her shoulders, he loved her as that Targaryen prince had loved Jenny.

Pod dared to hope that when she looked at him, she saw a similar thing - that she would see the love and utter devotion he held for her, and that he would be by her side as long as she wished to be. But at the present, being by her side meant leaving her, and loving her might mean dying to protect her home.

She grabbed his hand, in a gesture of support, and that was enough to break down the last walls of his reserve.

He leaned forward, his other arm going around her waist to tug her against him, but before his lips could capture hers, he looked down at her for a brief second, a question in his eyes. He knew that she was worried about her position and had to admit that it would look improper or the Lady of Winterfell to be kissed so openly by her sword sword's  _squire._

Sansa glanced around the courtyard, but he couldn't bring himself to look away just quite yet. If she pushed him away, he would gladly retreat, kissing the back of her hand and whatever she saw in the yard did not bother her, as she reached up to press a gloved hand to his stubbled cheek and glancing at his lips.

Pod bent his neck only slightly -  _they were almost of a height,_ he thought somewhat giddily - pressing his lips firmly against her. This kiss held all of the sweetness and innocence of their first among the snows of the ramparts but was laced with a sharp undercurrent of hope and desperation and promises and fears all rolled into one embrace.

If he had learned anything from Brienne, it wasn't how to kill a man or how to be a great fighter - he didn't like killing men and he was never going to be a great fighter - but it was the dangers of waiting. He waited so long to begin his knightly training because he was afraid that he was going to be the laughingstock of King's Landing, and he waited too long to push the lady knight to confront her feelings for Ser Jaime.

But he was not going to wait to have one more moment with Sansa.

He desperately wanted to deepen the kiss further, but he reluctantly pulled back...it would not be very honorable or noble to kiss her like he wanted in full view of the courtyard.

As he pulled away, his eyes opened, his heart swelling full of love for the young woman in his arms. His very own Jenny, one who was not going to be haunted her ghosts anymore, if he had air left to breathe. "My Sansa," he breathed, so quietly he wasn't sure that he had spoken.

But as her eyes opened, a shy grin at her lips, almost as if she was afraid to let herself smile at such a foreboding moment. Her hand slipped underneath his gauntlet, tracing the leather cord she had tied there not two hours earlier.

 _Remember me,_ she seemed to be saying, her eyes closing once more as she took a deep, steadying breath, her forehead leaning against his.  _Remember that I will be waiting for you._

His heart nearly shattered right there, the silent promise nearly breaking him as he didn't know if he had the strength to keep it.  To survive the battle with the wights and White Walkers. To fight for his life and the lief of every soul in Westeros. To love her the way she deserved, so that she would not remember her life as a sad song.

To  _live_ to come back and make a life  _after._

 _You will not be like Jenny,_ he vowed, kissing her on the forehead before reluctantly pulling away.  _You will not dance with ghosts until the end of time, wishing them to never leave you. I won't let your ghosts haunt you after this night...because no matter what happens, you have to live on and never let them haunt you again._

"Until the sun comes up," Pod said, with all the appearance as if he was just a squire saying goodbye to his Lady, but it meant much  more to the two young souls standing in that small overlook.

When the sun rose once more, it would be over, for better or worse. When the sun rose, he would either be by her side, or he would have fought to his last breath to protect her.

And as he turned away, Pod found that he was all right with either scenario, filled with purpose and love, and humming "Jenny of Oldstones" to himself.

_High in the halls of the kings that are gone,_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts._

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found,_

_And the ones who had loved her the most._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! I will likely be adding more to this series after the battle episode, so let me know if that is something you'd be interested in reading.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments, I appreciate them all!
> 
> Below is my longer notes/comments, so I totally don't blame you for skipping it. 
> 
> A big part of this ch. is the comparison to the Blackwater episode/battle, and I wanted to do that to illustrate the changes both characters have gone through. And it's fun to imagine Pod having a crush on Sansa when they're both in KL, and how those feelings could have evolved.
> 
> -Also, I wanted to explore a little bit of Pod's relationships w/the Lannister brothers, since that has been a huge driving force of his character the early seasons, and how he would see the relationship between Jaime and Brienne, having known both of them at various stages in their character development.
> 
> One of Pod's lines "he was a slow learner at times, it was true" is just an obvious callback to Sansa's "I'm a slow learner...but I learn" line in 7x07, just a cute parallel for Podsa of both being smarter than they let on.
> 
> Another quote I wanted to add was Pod's wanting to grow up/old before he died, which is a paraphrase of one of Rudy's line from "The Book Thief" b/c I like making myself sad.
> 
> As shippy as 3x02 was, in regards to Braime, I really think that we're going to get a battlefield/dying confession from them both in the next ep that will completely break my heart. So that's kind of why I had Pod be an awkward 3rd wheel, b/c I didn't quite think they'd have the opportunity to talk alone before the fight.
> 
> -Also had to add in a bit of that knighting scene because it was soo Braime and soo adorable! And Jaime looking at his golden hand is super important b/c he lost it for her, and he's remembering how Cersei hated how he was no longer whole.
> 
> -Also, so many characters were breaking the "don't talk about what you're gonna do after the war if you want to survive" rule last ep., so if you were like me and screaming at Grey Worm that he shouldn't have said that to Missandei (cute as they are), I purposefully added "tell me after the battle is won" just for a little emotional punch and why Podsa never actually *say* their promises to each other.
> 
> -I'm pretty much just trying to set up for every potentially painfully emotional outcome of the battle.
> 
> So, now we need to talk about the song.
> 
> Just a brief overview of what I think the story to be, Jenny lived in the woods (might be descended from Children of the Forest) but gained the love of a Targaryen prince who gave up the throne to marry her. He eventually died in the fire of Summerhall (long story) and she went kind of crazy (i.e. "dancing with her ghosts").
> 
> I think there are a lot of parallels in the song (which again you should listen to!!) to Sansa.
> 
> -"halls of the kings who are gone"=Winterfell/Kings in the North
> 
> -The "dancing with her ghosts" line is easily related to all of Sansa's dead family, and I wanted it to be clear that Pod, though he loves her, didn't want to be another ghost for her if he dies.
> 
> -But, I also wanted to show how Sansa has moved past being a simple parallel to Jenny, in that she is not letting her past control her life and is trying to move forwards.
> 
> -Also, I wanted to add another interpretation of how songs impact Sansa's story in particular (which is apparently a huge part of this fic). And Pod sees the heroes as more of an aspiration for himself to strive to, but simultaneously seeing Sansa as more complex than the girls in songs, and loves her for it (healthy relationships are cool y'all).
> 
> If you've made it to the end of this A/N, congrats! They keep getting longer, so I apologize and let me know if you appreciate these or not, or just comments in general!! They make my day!
> 
> Keep an eye out after 8x03 since I'll likely have many strong feelings to write about.


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